


The Fairy of the Forest

by DragonaireAbsolvare



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fairy, Gen, Separation, Shipwreck, Spirits, Stranded, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23494627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonaireAbsolvare/pseuds/DragonaireAbsolvare
Summary: Isaac is a wealthy trader sailing back to Europe from the Orient. A fierce storm takes everything away from him. Shipwrecked on a strange, tropical island inhabited by primitive tribes, Isaac dreams of returning home.Fortunately, a wish-granting fairy lives in the forest. The fairy can stop floods and storms, create sustenance during famine, and grant fertility to all life.Isaac seeks the fairy.Original Title: Isaac and the FairyOriginally published in Wattpad.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	The Fairy of the Forest

_Today, there was a shipwreck at the East Coast. I felt the tremors of old sea-worn timber snapping and the taste of blood painting the sands. Ships are uncommon in this part of the world. At most, we get kayaks, rafts and canoes from the nearby islands._

**The Captain’s Log:**

Captain Dain is no more.

Henceforth, I, Isaac, Son of John, will continue this log.

Today, I woke up stranded in an unknown island.

The Blackbird is no more. Her hull has caved in entirely, a sombre wooden grave over the corpses of my mates. Most of the crew died in yesterday’s storm, either claimed by the sea, or impaled by the mast.

I retrieved as many bodies as I could from the wreckage, determined to bury them as proper God-fearing Christians ought to be buried. They were laid to rest along the coast, a single flat rock marking their graves.

It is a forested island, I realise, walking along the coast. Within five yards of the coastline, dense mangroves begin. Not too far away is a rocky cliff-side, overhanging the shallower waters. There is a crevice in the rocks- if I do not find better shelter, I can rest there. For now, however, I will continue to explore the island.

***

_There was a shipwreck at the East Coast. The only survivor seems to be an idiot. He will not last long in the forest. Look at him, brandishing that shiny sword at anything and everything that moves! That nincompoop has destroyed five nests already. I can hear the weeping of the birds._

**The Captain’s Log:**

I discovered that my compass no longer works in this island. The needle keeps pointing willy-nilly at things. It seems there is a lodestone mine under this land. Moreover, the soil gets redder the farther I get from the coast. Fortunately, the stars are still there to guide me back to my haven.

There was a strange beast in the crevice- it had a serpent’s body and a colourful, frilled head. I do not know what creature it is; merely that it was impossible to defeat. We lay injured in that crevice for a week, and have reached some sort of truce.

I have yet to discover any human existence; but there are many kinds of fruit bats, squirrels and deer.

The climate has so far been moderate, and the stars tell me I am still in the southern part of the world, although very far from the Land of Silk. I have been able to recover naught of our precious cargo, although I hold hope that our crates may wash ashore. I shall have little for trade otherwise, should I find any settlements.

***

_It seems even a ruthless predator like the Sartha feels sorry for that invading idiot, that it will not poison him._

_He has stumbled upon the human settlements, I see._

**The Captain’s Log:**

There is a tribal village three miles into the forest. All are strange coloured people, some kind of light brown and yellow. They have tradable goods like painted leather and fine glazed pottery, and some beautiful glassware. I am sure they would fetch a fortune if brought back to the continent.

It was truly odd to be stared at like an object on display.

There was also the issue of language, but I managed to get across enough to let them know I was a shipwrecked sailor.

A tribal woman brought me to her grass hut, where she claims, she has more pale-skinned creatures like me. I am hopeful that a few of my companions may have survived, and that we may return home soon.

.................................

Under the mangy beard and hair, it indeed seems to be my crewmates. Our cook, Abel, and a Grecian sailor called Zacharias have survived the shipwreck, although they seem to be grievously injured. For now, I shall see to their recovery, and continue to explore this piece of land.

***

_Now the idiot has found other idiots, and they have sent him on a foolhardy mission in the forest._

**The Captain’s Log:**

I have progressed considerably in my attempt to learn the natives’ language and culture. They are primarily a hunting folk, although they do a bit of backyard vegetable growing. There are also stories of other villages in the island, with minor differences in culture. They all seem to have one thing in common, though:

Not even their bravest hunters cross into the inner forests. Only when their need overcomes their fear may they venture there.

A young tribal maiden told me of a fairy who lives there, who can grant any wish in the world.

I pray that this may be our way home.

.......................................

_Who does he think I am? Some wish-granting fairy?_

.......................................

**Isaac:**

I traversed thorny nettles, woody reeds and sprawling brambles. Many an egg fell upon my head and cracked, the yolk congealing in my hair. The gnarled roots keep tripping me off my aching feet.

Dear lord, the forest seems to get denser and more endless the further I go in!

But whenever I feel disheartened, all I need do is look up at the looming hill, upon which stands a lone giant tree. It dwarfs everything on this island, and seems to be some relative of the baobab tree we saw in the forests of the Dark Continent. There are no other trees of its ilk around.

It took me an eternity, but as pushed aside the last few bamboo stalks, I saw the grassy clearing, and the giant tree at its centre. I ran joyfully to the base of that colossal trunk, and looked up.

“Fairy!” I called, desperately. “Fairy! Please grant me a way home!”

At first, I thought it to be a cruel trick that tribal maiden had played on me, and nearly cursed her in my heart. But then, a gust of wind blew, swaying the thinner branches, and I caught a glimpse of light on one of the topmost branches.

“Fairy!”

In my eagerness, I began to climb the tree, for I _knew,_ if I reached the fairy, it would have no choice but to acknowledge me. Halfway up, my foot slipped, and I fell all the way down.

“Fairy, please send me back home!”

........................................

_What an idiot._

_And yet, he keeps climbing. Again, I vanished another branch under his feet. If he falls enough, he will learn to not bother me anymore._

_Dusk set in, and the fool trudged back. I can hear dejection in the heaviness of his footsteps. I can hear him return to the Sartha’s cave, and the throbbing ache in his bones as he lies down._

_Good. A little pain has never harmed anyone._

***

_Every day, the idiot walks up this hill; climbs this tree again and again, and falls down again and again. It seems he has not yet realised the branches are vanishing under his feet; that it is not his inadequacy or folly that makes him fall, but my will._

_In the evening, he lumbers back to his little crevice, head dropped in resignation._

_I have given up on that resignation lasting beyond the night- for he returns every morning, refreshed and optimistic._

_What a pest._

**The Captain’s Log:**

Yelaini, the tribal maiden, chastised me yesterday. It seems the fairy will not grant wishes unless it is of the utmost urgency.

Nevertheless, I will not give up.

On a brighter note, Abel has woken up. He was infinitely relived to see a familiar face amidst the coloured strangers, I believe.

I have also been learning to farm peas and long leafy stalks, and to weave cloth out of straw. They have an absurd technique of soaking fresh straw in some sweet-smelling sap until it rots, and combing through the rotting fibres until only the thinnest strands remain. It is like nothing I have heard of, and the weave they produce is almost as fine as silk.

It does not have the same lustre, however, to be used as a cheaper replacement. The villagers call it Aythema, and is used as some sort of bridal toga.

...................................

**Isaac:**

I decided to take the little shawl I wove out of Aythema to the fairy on the hill, hoping it would serve as some sort of libation. These pagan spirits seem to be very fond of those, don’t they?

The tree was as menacing as ever, its height and girth overwhelming as I stood at the base. Tucking the shawl into my doublet, I began to climb as quietly as I could. Soon enough, I was panting with the exertion, although the wind carried away much of the noise.

To my surprise, I found the fairy sitting on a lower branch than its usual treetop spot. Spurred on by this pleasant turn of fate, I clambered up the tree. When the fairy looked down­­­­ it was too late. My fingers had brushed cloth finer than the most expensive Chinese silk, and as I felt the branch under my feet give away, my fist curled around that delicate material, pulling it down with me.

......................................

_I was falling before I knew it. It was alien; bizarre and disorienting, the roar of the wind in my ears overwhelming every other sensation. And then, I crashed, feeling softness and hardness beneath me. The sharp tang of crushed grass and the faint musk of a human, the cool breath of the wind and the warmth of a mammal, the rise and fall of the idiot’s chest as his lungs strained for air..._

_At that moment, I felt vividly as I never had._

_A torrent of sensations bursting through my spirit-body; despite having felt everything this island has, since the beginning of time._

......................................

**Isaac:**

I blinked up at the sight of the fairy above me. Till then, I had toyed with the idea of pagan deities, spirits of wood and water, and beings of the sky; blasphemous, sacrilegious notions that would have had me excommunicated by the church and disowned by my family. But that day, I truly _believed._

There, in bright daylight, before my very eyes, was a creature of no earthly origin, a being of pure light that not even the fairest, loveliest vision in an artist’s dream could compare. The being bore no weight upon my body, despite towering by two heads; and a crown of woven wildflowers nestled on radiant white hair flowing down its sides.

I was humbled; I could say no more. I mutely thrust the Aythema shawl into its chest, feeling a faint coolness when its fingertips grazed mine.

The being quietly floated away, leaving me mesmerised and lost upon the grass.

Later, I would wonder how could those tribal villagers have seen that celestial vision and not sought to worship it.

***

_I am annoyed at having been caught unaware. It shall not happen again._

_Each day, I wait for him, from the topmost branch. My senses follow his movements keenly, and then, as he reaches halfway, I vanish the branches, letting him fall. It is oddly satisfying to hear the dull thud his fragile human body makes as it hits the ground._

_And then I am overcome by guilt._

_I am the island. It is not becoming to be petty towards such transient creatures._

_And yet, every day he comes, and climbs. And every day, I watch him, and make him fall._

_Is there to be no end to this cycle?_

***

_I wait._

_But today, he has not come. It is almost dusk, and I have seen neither hair nor hide of him._

_It is worrying. The idiot is not one to be overcome by time._

***

_Another day has passed. There will be no more waiting._

_I jumped off my branch, feeling the exhilaration of the fall. The moment my bare feet made contact with the ground, my senses, attuned to the thrum of life around me, began combing the landscape for his presence._

_I found him in the forest, a little far from the human settlements. He had been attacked by a wolf, although, judging by the blood on his sword and the sharp scent in the air, he had responded in kind. But I had not felt any death, so both man and wolf must have survived._

_I do not know what prompted me to stop nature’s course. It must have been the unbearable coolness of that body, so warm and lively the last time I had seen it, or the dispirited limpness where I was used to stubborn stupidity; but I carried him to the Sartha’s lair and healed his wounds._

_The Sartha trilled chidingly, but wound amiably around me while I worked. The human did not seem to have much blood in him to sustain life, so I fed him some herbal infusions and waited. Many hours must have passed; for it was almost twilight when the colour began returning to his cheeks._

_I laid my hand on his forehead- it was warm._

_There was nothing more to be done, so I left._

***

**The Captain’s Log:**

Abel has recovered almost fully, and Zacharias has woken up. The latter seems to have injuries on his feet that, Yelaini tells me, are not healing at all. They have tried everything, from medicinal pastes, to cutting off the infected parts. So far, Zacharias has been in pain.

Abel accompanies me to farming often; he has been advised to start physically intensive labour. They say it will keep his heart healthy.

Oddly enough, the tribals here consider the heart merely an essential organ. Their philosophies are rather strange; the human soul after death, is drawn into a mud vessel and buried in the fields without so much as a grave marker. The soul always returns to the island, reborn; so why, Yelaini asks me, should they tie it to the earth?

It is also surprising that there is no notion of distinction between the two sexes. Women hold just as much authority as the men, and also participate in the hunting and occasional fishing.

............................................

**Isaac:**

Yelaini seems to be one such huntswoman; Abel dislikes her for this very reason. That, and the fact that she is unmarried. He is a very orthodox man, and believes a virtuous woman must be docile and obedient, that she must marry and have children.

Abel does not like the tribe at all; it is at my behest that he continues this polite farce.

He persuades me day and night to build a raft and set off, and die at sea rather than continue domesticity with these _barbarians._

***

I do not like that term, and I told him so.

Abel snarled and stalked away. He has not returned since.

I still go to my fairy, although the thought of returning home seems insignificant these days. Life on this island has become second-nature as has become the habit of climbing and falling.

Perhaps, it was a dream, but I remember that lovely being sitting in my cave, watching over me as I slept.

***

_The human woman seems to ingratiate herself with the idiot._

_They are both idiots- it was bound to happen. It is Nature’s course._

_And yet, it displeases me greatly. It is a strange emotion- displeasure._

_I cannot help it when my feet carries me after them, whenever they stroll together. She is infatuated, of course, and the idiot does not realise it. He is beautiful and she is not-_

_No._

_He is_ not _beautiful. He is merely human. And she, another human._

_When they return to the hut, I will leave._

***

_The seas raged that night. A storm howled over the skies, and fierce winds threatened to uproot the trees._

_But no. I will never harm the life upon my shores._

_The storm churned the sea and split the heavens with jagged, painful bolts. Each strike was a dagger to my heart:_

_For I am a spirit._

_And a spirit can do little else but wait._

_So I pushed aside all thought and sought comfort in feeling; the eagles nesting high up in the trees, the mongooses and rabbits in their burrows and the Sartha curling up all alone in its crevice, whilst the invader played with his ilk..._

_I flew to the girl’s hut. He was toasting sweet potatoes in a pile of leaves. Loathing filled my being as I watched her snatch a bite out of the tuber in his hand. He merely laughed, feeding her some more._

_Loathing- is also a new emotion._

_The woman began choking on the food. It would surely go into her lungs and-_

_I withdrew, horrified._

_What was I doing?_

_The rain lashed on me harder than ever, as I walked back to my tree. I felt foul and corrupted; an unworthy spirit. The thunderstorm had died away, leaving only the miserable, cold rain to keep me company in the night._

***

**The Captain’s Log:**

Zacharias did not survive the storm. The infection in his leg had crept into much of his body, and a few of his inner organs, delicately healed by the old woman’s medicine, had ruptured.

I insisted that Zacharias be given a proper Christian burial. He was buried by the shore in the afternoon.

The concept of mourning seems to be common to all civilisations, I believe. Yelaini let me mourn in silence, although there was no mourning attire to change into.

I had stumbled with the Latin prayers that used to come so effortlessly; and I realised I had not thought of God, and home in a long time. I had forgotten who I was. I am Isaac, Son of John, sailor on the Blackbird, silk trader, and Interpreter to Captain Dain.

Reborn with purpose, I shall anew my attempts to return to my rightful home.

***

**The Captain’s Log:**

This is the last entry that shall be made into this log.

Abel returned this morning, on a trader’s ship. They had been passing by, searching for an island to restock their supplies, when they intercepted his raft. The villagers have good-naturedly provided them with provisions to last a month.

I am glad Abel thought of me and chose not to abandon me here, although we did part on unfriendly terms.

Before I embark on my journey home, there is something that I must do.

............................................

**Isaac:**

I ran across the forest, a small path having been made from my daily pilgrimage. My fairy was still waiting on that tree, as ethereal and distant as always.

“Fairy!” I cried, racing to the base of that colossal trunk.

My fairy looked down knowingly. I climbed the tree as I always did.

“Fairy.” It came out as a plea. “I am going home.”

Miraculously, the branches did not give away. I climbed higher than ever, thinking of yesterday, when the fairy had indifferently turned away and tossed me down the tree, and of tomorrow, when I may never see my fairy again.

“Come away with me.” I said, when the fine cloth brushed my cheeks. I climbed the next branch.

............................................

_I’m not a fairy, you idiot. I am the island._

_I watched him throughout his ascent. When his hand precariously wrapped around the branch I was occupying, I reached out._

_And vanished the branches._

_The fool fell, knowing this would have been the outcome no matter what, his gaze never breaking off mine._

_The landing must have been more painful, not having fallen from this height before. He lay there for a long time, beholding my gaze and smiling bitterly._

_Bitterness- that is also new to me. It aches like the sweetness of something long since eaten and forgotten. And ‘Longing’, which is a pain worse than any of its physical counterparts._

_As the midday sun glares down on us, my little fool traipses back to the ship anchored to my shore. He waves a heartfelt and sad goodbye to the villagers, and shares a passionate embrace with the human girl._

_The ship slowly moves away; even the Sartha peeks out of its crevice to bid goodbye._

_I turn away, unable to watch._

_But my shore does watch, and I know that his eyes are trained to the little hill, to the light on the top of the tallest tree, and he does not move until I am but a distant speck on the horizon._

_It rains._

_~***~_

_FIN_


End file.
